It wasn’t easy sleeping after the conversation I’d had with Dash. I kept thinking about all the pain he was in, how hard it must have been to lose his friend, and to lose him to a sport that Dash had once loved.

Even though Dash had insisted that he would be fine on the group date, I was still worried about him when we got to the racetrack the next day. I was supposed to be focused on my contestants, but I couldn’t help the way my eyes kept traveling to him, watching for any sign of distress.

He seemed fine. He was laughing and joking with the crew, looking damn sexy in his racing uniform. It was a pretty hot sight, and the girls seemed to agree, all of them whispering and sighing as Dash checked the racecar.

“He looks like he knows how to handle curves,” Jasmine said, coming up behind me.

I smiled at her. “That’s a good one,” I told her. “You should use that in your hot-seat interview.”

Her eyes lit up. “I will,” she said. “And thanks for your advice the other day. Andrea spoke to me this morning and said they were very pleased with the footage.”

“You’re welcome.” I gave her a once-over. “You look great today.”

She struck a pose, looking cute in the ridiculous racing outfits they had chosen for the girls. Across the track, Kimmie had somehow managed to make hers look even more risqué, rolling the waistband of the booty shorts down to show more of her stomach, and tying the top in a knot to show off her boobs.

“Not hard to tell who the producer favorite is,” Jasmine noted, as we both watched Kimmie chatting with Patrick, who was unabashedly checking her out.

“You keep doing what you’re doing,” I told Jasmine. “Kimmie’s got her own . . . style.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Jasmine winked at me and sauntered off.

Trying to be casual, I headed over towards Dash, who was kneeling next to the racecar, his back muscles flexing underneath the tight shirt he always seemed to be wearing. Not that I was complaining. It was pretty hot, especially paired with his racing coveralls, which were currently unzipped and undone to his waist.

“Hey,” I said, and pulled out my earpiece, knowing that anyone could be listening. “How are you doing?”

Dash looked up at me and smiled. That smile made me feel all giggly, but I kept it together, knowing that we were in a very, very public place.

“I’m good,” he told me. “How are you?”

I pointed to the microphone coming out of his shirt, indicating that he needed to watch what he was saying. He nodded.

“Good,” I responded. “Are you ready for this?”

I was really asking, “Are you OK with this?”

“I’m ready,” he told me, his voice and expression confident.

“Paige!” Andrea was walking over towards me, and even though I wasn’t standing that close to him, I automatically took a step away from Dash. “We need you.”

“Happy to help,” I told her, shoving my earpiece back in.

“Great.” She pointed at the racecar. “Get in.”

My eyebrows went up, but I didn’t say anything.

“We need to test the shot,” Andrea explained. “Before we get any of the girls in the car.”

“Of course.” I cast a quick look in Dash’s direction, but he only offered a smile that was half-wicked, half-playful.

“Don’t worry,” he said, standing. “I won’t go too fast.”

“You look nervous,” he observed as I buckled myself into the seat.

“Not nervous,” I said, probably too quickly. Dash gave me a look. “OK, maybe a little nervous. Are you sure this is ok?”

He pulled on his gloves. “Trust me.” He patted my leg. “I wouldn’t let you—or anyone—in this car if I didn’t think it would be OK.”

I did trust him, so I relaxed. Or tried to. I had never been one for car-racing, but I knew that these cars went hella fast. Faster than I’d ever been in a car before. I found myself gripping the dashboard, and Dash hadn’t even turned the car on yet.

“You’re going to love it,” he told me, his hand curling over mine for a moment. “I promise.”

His words soothed me, so I forced myself to relax, leaning back in my seat. Dash glanced over at me.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. “Ready.”

He twisted the key and the car roared to life. Even though I was expecting it, I let out a little shriek as the floor vibrated from the power of the engine.

“It’s so strong,” I told Dash.

He grinned. “That’s what they all say.”

I smacked him in the arm. “Save it for the cameras,” I ordered, and his smile dimmed a little. I regretted the words the minute I said them. The last thing we needed was the constant reminder that Dash was on display.

“I’m going to start nice and easy,” Dash told me, the car idling beneath us.

“Don’t go easy on me,” I said. “Just go.”

“Are you sure?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyways.

And we were off.

It was like a rollercoaster, the way we flew around the track, the world melting into a blur of colors around us. With each sharp turn, I let out a shriek of surprise and excitement. Because I loved it. I loved every second of it.

And it was clear that Dash felt the same. Glancing over at him, I saw the focus and concentration on his face, but it was also obvious he was having a great time. His attention was on the track, on the car, on the movement, completely. It was damn sexy watching him get so involved in something, and I felt my entire body heating up. That, along with the very seductive vibrations of the car, made me feel horny as hell.

I finally understood why people thought cars and car-racing were sexy. Because I wanted to jump Dash’s bones going a hundred miles an hour. And I had a feeling he could maneuver the car and make me come at the same time. He seemed like he would just be that good.

“This is amazing,” I told Dash.

He shot me a quick grin. “It’s pretty great, isn’t it?”

We finished our laps and slowed down, easing back to where everyone was waiting.

“Good ride?” Andrea asked once we had returned the car and were climbing out of the seats.

I nodded. “It was fun,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“It looked good on camera,” Andrea observed, and I went to look at the screen, relieved that Dash and I hadn’t said anything too revealing while we were driving around.

Andrea was right. It looked really good on camera. Damn sexy, too. It was going to be great for ratings. And there came those warring emotions. Because I wanted the show to do well—but I didn’t want anyone else getting in the car with Dash.

I was about to head over to the tent when Dash grabbed my arm. His face was flushed with pleasure from the ride, and his eyes bright.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, the implication unmistakable.

I blushed. I couldn’t help it.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my entire body humming as if we were still in the car.

“I want to see you tonight,” he said quietly.

“OK.” I felt everything below my waist heat up. “Tonight.”

Dash winked at me and sauntered off. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing pulse.

I couldn’t wait.

But I had to get through the rest of the day first. And it was turning into one of those nightmare shooting days. No one was where they were supposed to be, no one was ready when they were supposed to be, and several of the girls seemed slightly hungover, which did not bode well for their trip around the track. In fact, I was feeling a little nauseous myself just looking at their faces go gray.

It wasn’t my favorite day—watching all of the girls in their sexy little outfits climb into the car with Dash and return, ruffled and flushed, looking like they had just gotten more than just a ride from him. Jealousy burned low in my belly, and I did my best to keep from glaring at the contestants as they kept touching and flirting with Dash. I reminded myself that they were all doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. I was the one acting out of turn. I was the one who wasn’t supposed to be involved in that equation.

But it didn’t help quell any of my jealousy.

Still, I forced a happy smile on my face and went to the tent to alert my contestants that it was almost time. But as I was heading in to speak to Savannah, who was next, an arm reached out from behind the tent and yanked me around.

It was Kimmie, and she was not pleased.

“I see what you’re doing,” she said, her eyes narrowed, standing way too close for comfort. “And I won’t stand for it.”

I blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you and Dash,” she sneered.

My stomach dropped. Shit. Damn. Fuck.

“You’re flirting with him,” Kimmie continued, and I let out a mental breath of air. She hadn’t seen us on the boat, or the beach, or any of the other places we had been acting inappropriately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I decided to play innocent.

Kimmie wasn’t buying it. She shoved her finger in my face.

“I’m going to win that final heart,” she told me. “And if anyone gets in my way, they’ll regret it.”

I had about six inches on Kimmie, but the look in her eyes, the venom in her voice, and the tight grip she had on my arm made me nervous. All I could do was nod.

“Good,” she said sweetly. “Because I know you need this job.”

I stiffened.

“And I would hate for something to jeopardize your career with the production,” said Kimmie, her expression intense.

“Paige!” Andrea’s voice interrupted us, blaring in my earpiece, loud enough for both of us to hear. “We need Savannah on set.”

“On my way,” I responded, and turned back to Kimmie, wondering—dreading—what she would do next.

But then, as if she hadn’t just threatened me, she smiled, and all the malice disappeared immediately. She looked as if we had just been having a simple, pleasant conversation about the weather. Flipping her hair over one shoulder, she adjusted her top, making her cleavage even more prominent.

“Good talk,” she said, with a syrupy sweet look. “I’m glad we cleared everything up.”

Then she sauntered off, her hips swaying with each step.

“Yeah,” I muttered as I watched her walk away. “Me too.”

* * *

I felt uneasy for the rest of the day, and didn’t feel any better when Andrea told me to come meet her after we had wrapped shooting. All I could think was that Kimmie had gone to the producers with her claims and that I was going to get fired.

By the end of it all, everyone was in a bad mood, and I was feeling pretty crummy myself. All the anticipation for a night with Dash had faded in comparison to my fear of getting fired as soon as the shoot was over. He kept texting me throughout the day, sexy little messages about that night, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond, especially if it was revealed that we had been caught and I was going to be kicked off set. Instead, I dragged myself to Andrea when everything was packed up, and braced myself for the pink slip.

“Come in.” Andrea waved to me as I entered the tent.

She was staring at several screens, each of them showing footage of the remaining contestants. Across from her was a board with the names of the girls. Two of them had been crossed out, so it was pretty easy to see who was going to be getting the boot this week. I was relieved to see that it wasn’t Savannah or Jasmine. I was less relieved to find that Kimmie was still in the running. But of course she was. She was the producers’ favorite, and had worked hard to make it that way.

I sat, and Andrea clicked off the screens and turned to face me. Her expression was serious, but it was always serious. I tried to keep my own face impassive.

“You probably guessed why I’ve called you in here.” Andrea pulled open a drawer.

“Um . . .” I didn’t know what to say, and my eyes focused on her hands, looking for that telltale pink slip.

Instead, Andrea handed me an envelope. When I just stared at it, she gave it a little shake, urging me to take it.

“Go on,” she said. “Open it.”

It was a check. For five thousand dollars.

I gaped at it and then at her.

“A bonus,” Andrea told me. “For work well done.”

“Thank you,” I managed, still not sure it was real.

“You’ve been doing a great job,” Andrea continued. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed that all three of your girls are still in the running. They’re getting great buzz online, and are setting up for the big final two. That’s a great accomplishment for someone just starting out.”

“I was very lucky with my contestants,” I demurred, but Andrea shook her head.

“Just take the credit,” she ordered. “You’ll never make it in the industry if you can’t take a compliment.”

“OK,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Better.” She tilted her head at me. “You have a real skill for this kind of work.”

“Thank you.” I was surprised, but pleased to hear this.

“You especially have a way with the talent,” she was saying. “You managed—on more than one occasion—to get exactly what we needed out of the girls. Out of Dash as well.”

I bit my lip, trying not to let my mind fill with dirty thoughts over exactly what I wanted to get out of Dash tonight.

“I appreciate that,” I finally said. “It’s important to me that I do a good job.”

“I know you mentioned you were hoping for a future in production,” Andrea leaned forward. “If that’s true, then you and I should have a conversation after all this is over. I think you have a lot of potential.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it, focusing on the surprisingly good news.

“I would like that,” I told Andrea.

“Good.” She picked up the remote and turned the screens back on. She slid me a sideways glance when I didn’t move. “That’s all,” she said.

Immediately I got up and hurried out of the tent, pulling my phone out as I did. It was a text from Dash.

Tonight? he asked. You. Me. Take out. Your place?

My body gave a little shiver of anticipation. But there was something I needed to take care of before I responded.

Hurrying over to the makeup tent, I caught Lorna just as she was packing up.

“Hey.” I tried to sound casual. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Paige.” She gave me an apologetic look. “I think I’m going over to Justin’s tonight. You’re on your own.”

“That’s too bad.” I hoped I sounded appropriately disappointed. “I guess I can watch some of the Real Housewives.”

Lorna shivered. “Ugh. You know I hate those women.”

“I know,” I told her. “That’s why I can watch it when you’re gone.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can watch them all night long, for all I care,” Lorna informed me. “You’ve got the whole place to yourself for the whole night.”

I did a mental fist pump, but outwardly, managed a casual shrug.

“Fine,” I told her. “Your loss.”